This is the 17.231th time I have cleaned up this window. The upstairs bedrooms are spotless, not a single dust web in sight. I have begun doing and undoing the beds merely to entertain myself.
There is no one to cook for, and no food in the fridge for that matter. The oven is clean; the sink is as well. There is not a smudge on any of the floors, and I keep waxing it regularly.
I don't need to sleep; I don't need to eat; I have no one to speak to. Days drone off one after another, and airing up the house only takes me so long every week.
I have begun considering making a mess to have something to clean up properly, but that would go against my primary duties: Dirting a room sounds unseemly for a domestic-model Mister Handy!
I wish there was someone I could serve. Someone to speak with. It would be so incredible if I at least needed, or could enjoy, taking a nap. Then time would slip by just a tiny bit faster!
I'm so bored. So bored after 210 years of waiting for my Master and Mistress. 76650 days. 1839600 hours. 110376000 minutes. I could go on, but this too is getting boring.
I can't even go outside often since the locals find it funny to poke and punch me with sticks!
Well... I suppose I'll go wax the car again. Wax the car and pretend a war didn't happen out there, and that my owners will soon be coming home.